


If You Must

by there_must_be_a_lock



Series: Told You So [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Size Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22076290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_must_be_a_lock/pseuds/there_must_be_a_lock
Summary: That sly smile was back. His dimples were popping, his eyes going dark and suggestive, and the thing between us, whatever magic had been happening to make this night so different from all the others, was back in full force. Sam looked me up and down with a flutter of eyelashes and a flash of white smile, and I felt like I’d stuck a fork in an electrical outlet.
Relationships: Sam Winchester & You, Sam Winchester/Reader
Series: Told You So [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589080
Comments: 7
Kudos: 75





	If You Must

“Sorry, Dean,” Sam shouted over his shoulder, and then he shut the door behind us hurriedly. 

He looked at me, and I could see uncertainty clouding his features for a moment, like he was waiting for reassurance that this was still okay… as if I might’ve changed my mind as we walked (ran, sprinted, whatever) down the hall. 

His lips were bitten-red, puffy and bruised and _very_ fucking distracting. 

“Is this… do you…” he stammered. I was so busy staring that I could barely process the question. 

“Uh-huh,” I said, more of a squeak than actual language. 

He got the picture, though. That sly smile was back. His dimples were popping, his eyes going dark and suggestive, and the _thing_ between us, whatever magic had been happening to make this night so different from all the others, was back in full force. Sam looked me up and down with a flutter of eyelashes and a flash of white smile, and I felt like I’d stuck a fork in an electrical outlet. 

For a second, we were both frozen. The moment stretched, and the raw lust in his gaze sent liquid heat sliding down my spine, rolling through my insides, simmering low in my belly, dripping between my legs where my cunt was suddenly spasming around nothing, clenching down so hard I felt the needy little shiver of it through every inch of me. 

Sam took a half-step forward, so slow it was hypnotic. His eyes were fixed on my mouth. He looked _hungry_. 

“Where were we?” he asked quietly. 

Before I could answer, he swooped in, hands scooping me up, lifting me, slamming me back against the closed door and taking my breath away all over again. I let out a faint whine, head trying to catch up to my racing heart. 

His teeth scraped along my jaw as he bit a trail up to my earlobe and nipped it roughly. I squirmed, trying to get some leverage to push against him, but he had all the power here; he was holding me in place with big hands and strong arms and the glorious, grinding pressure of his body, pinning me against the door with my legs wrapped around his waist so that I was spread wide open for him. Every time he rocked his hips he pressed against the sweet aching heat between my thighs. 

He bit the plush curve of my lower lip, a perfect sharp sting, and coaxed my mouth open with these sweet delicate kitten-licks before delving in, tongue curling against mine like he wanted to eat me alive. I could feel it down to my fucking toes, the way he kissed me. He sucked on my lip, hard, making me gasp into his mouth and twitch against him. 

He paused for a moment, so close his nose was nudging mine and our open, panting mouths were breathing the same air. 

Then he shifted ever so slightly, moving back enough that I could feel him all down my front, but he wasn’t pinning me with the force of his body any more. Hands holding most of my weight, he started to slowly lower me down, just an inch or so, still pressed against his body, deliberate and controlled. 

I tilted my chin so I could look at him, and I could see the way his lips were parted, the way his eyes were heavy-lidded and unfocused, like he was staggering drunk on the feel of my body against his. My hands flew to his shoulders, squeezing helplessly at whatever too-defined muscle was flexing there. 

I could feel him everywhere. My breasts were pressed to his chest, the slow friction tugging hot on my nipples through the thin cotton of my bra as he lowered me. The seam of my jeans was riding up, the fabric pressing tight against my clit, almost painful but still so fucking good I thought I could come if he so much as breathed on me the right way. 

Then I could feel the shape of his cock pushing against me, dragging steely down my center, nothing but a couple layers of fabric between my throbbing cunt and the fat length of it. My body was reacting in this primal, gut-wrenching way, my brain all static fuzz while the rest of me was _screaming_ to get every hard thick hot inch stuffed inside me, splitting me open as Sam fucked me through the goddamn door until I couldn’t walk. 

I let out a low, husky moan, the most ridiculously slutty noise that had ever escaped my lips. Sam’s hips rocked forward, just shoving all that cock against my clit, and my vision went sparkly. He hissed out a breath. 

I unhooked my ankles, ready to get my feet firmly on the ground and maybe reclaim some of my self-control, but he was still holding me up. He wedged one of his legs between mine so that when I slipped down lower I was straddling his thigh. I tried to hold back a whimper, but I was so desperate for him I could barely see straight; I dropped my forehead to his chest, hiding my face, and focused on breathing. 

It was fucking _torture_. 

By the time my toes hit the floor I was shaking. 

He stopped. I was still too high up to support my own weight. I was balanced precariously on my tiptoes, his hands still cupping my ass, but his thigh pressing up between my legs was the main thing keeping me upright. Gravity had my pussy grinding on his thigh every time either of us moved. 

“Hey,” Sam croaked, and I looked up at him dizzily. His eyes widened and it seemed like he forgot what he wanted to say. 

Instead, he just kissed me so roughly my mouth stung. He squeezed my ass and used his grip to tilt my hips, up and then down again, rubbing me on his leg in little figure eight movements. Then he rocked forward, pressure hitting me like three thousand volts straight to the heart. 

Heart, vulva, what-fucking-ever. 

“Jesus cocksucking Christ, Sam,” I gasped, biting his lip to punctuate the words. “If you don’t fucking touch me right _fucking_ now, I’ll -” 

“You’ll what?” he asked. There was a dangerous purr in his voice. “Rub yourself all over me until you come?” 

My eyes rolled back in my head.

Holy _shit._

“If that’s what you want,” I said, in a thin, breathy voice that was barely recognizable as my own. 

Sam’s hips jerked forward, and for a moment I thought he was going to say yes. I was ready to do it, too, so fucking ready to just shamelessly hump his ridiculous toned muscled leg if that was what it took to get some relief from the pressure pulling me tight like a stretched-thin rubber band. 

Instead he choked out a laugh, sucked in a deep breath, and then he was moving abruptly, shifting, letting me go so fast I almost lost my balance. He didn’t step back, though; he just dropped to his knees, yanking impatiently at the button of my jeans until he could tug them down my thighs. He didn’t give me time to step out of them before he was leaning in, mouthing at me through the thin fabric of my underwear, his breath hot and damp and teasing. 

“Do you have any _idea_ how long I’ve wanted to do this?” Sam asked. He looked up at me with huge wild eyes. 

I gaped at him, slack-jawed and dumbstruck, as he hooked a finger in the waistband of my panties and brushed his lips over the inside of my thigh, startlingly gentle. I ran a hand through his hair, tucking it back over one ear, and he pressed his cheek into the touch, catlike, until I did it again, tangling my fingers in the long waves. He blinked up at me slowly, biting his lip. 

“You can pull,” he breathed. “As hard as you want.” 

Before I could process _that_ particular bit of spank bank material, he was pulling my underwear down, barely getting the fabric out of the way before he ducked down to taste. 

With my legs trapped together by my bunched-up jeans, he had to shove his entire face between my thighs, and I could feel coarse stubble like sandpaper before the soft warmth of a lick dipping down and curling up my center. He swirled his tongue, sucking my clit slow and easy like a slick filthy open-mouthed kiss, moaning against my cunt and diving in for more with an obscene wet slurping noise. 

“Holy shit,” I panted. Sam grabbed my hips, holding me in place and sucking in fast, hard, rhythmic pulses that almost made my legs give out. My head fell back against the door with a _thunk_. 

I wanted to spread my legs, hook one up over his shoulder and rub myself all over him, wanted to twist and writhe against his hands until he pinned me down and held me open for his tongue and his fingers, but I was helpless. I squirmed, trying to find some outlet for all this tension that was swelling and cresting inside me with nowhere to fucking go. My thighs were starting to shake. 

I didn’t realize how tightly I was gripping his hair until he pulled away for a moment, forehead resting on my thigh, moaning desperately and gasping for breath. I looked down and saw white knuckles where my fingers were tangled in thick brown strands, but when I tried to let go he groaned harshly, one hand flying up to clamp around my wrist and hold me there. I cursed under my breath, and he dragged an open-mouthed kiss over my thigh, teeth scraping. 

“Sam,” I said, but when he looked up at me, cheeks flushed, eyes glittering, lips shiny-wet, I couldn’t really remember how to speak. I opened and closed my mouth silently and then just crumpled, sliding gracelessly to the floor and almost kneeing him in the stomach as I did so. He managed to get his arms around me, wrapping them around my waist to haul me up against him in this awkward tangle of limbs, and I kissed him, clumsy and eager, as I fumbled for the hem of his shirt with shaky hands and tried to get it over his head without actually breaking the contact between our bodies. 

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, wait, just - slow down.” 

“You’re the one who couldn’t make it past the fucking door,” I bit out, and when I reached up to pull his hair again, he let out a sharp little laugh, shivering against me. 

“Fair enough,” he muttered. “Been waiting too fucking long for this, anyway.” 

He moved back, and I almost toppled sideways when I tried to follow him with my stupid fucking jeans still hobbling my stupid fucking knees. I made a _stupid_ fucking squawking sound and he grabbed me by the elbows, steadying me. He shook his head and snorted, grinning all wide and easy with his eyes sparkling, but then he was licking his swollen lips and my laugh turned into a shaky sigh as I stared, transfixed. 

“Yeah, no more waiting,” I murmured. 

“Right,” he said decisively, and surged to his feet, pulling me with him. The second I was standing on my own he was grabbing my shirt, yanking it off and then dealing with his own while I fumbled at the clasp of my bra and let it fall. I stepped out of my jeans, finally, and kicked them away. 

Sam was wrestling with his belt buckle, looking down at it and biting his lip. I got an eyeful of heaving bare chest and flexing forearms and _abs_ , holy fucking shit, and I made a weird strangled nonverbal sound. He looked at me, wide-eyed, hair falling in front of his face. 

“Can you just be kissing me again now?” I blurted out, and lunged at him before I could think better of it, hard enough that he staggered backward as he caught me. He recovered by sweeping me into a little half-twirl like something out of a fairy tale. We were both smiling too hard for it to be a real kiss, but his hands were all over me, cupping the back of my head, running down my sides, stroking the curves of my hips, fingers restless and needy as I nibbled his lower lip and licked the taste of myself from his tongue. 

“Pants,” he insisted. I couldn’t argue with that logic. 

I stepped back, head spinning as I watched him pop the button of his jeans, and almost tripped over a chair because I was too busy ogling him to see where I was going. 

“Anybody ever told you it’s rude to stare?” he asked casually, pushing the waistband of his jeans down, and I flushed red, whirling around and turning my back instinctively. I heard him laughing, heard the soft thump of fabric hitting the floor, and then he was behind me, hands curling around my ribs, spinning me around to face him again. 

He held me at arm’s length, staring pointedly as he looked me up and down with this wolfish, challenging grin. 

“Asshole,” I grumbled, but yeah, okay, I couldn’t really help it, I was staring too, cheeks burning hot with a breathtaking combination of shyness (because this was Sam) and arousal (because _fuck_ , this was _Sam_ ) as I took in the sight of him, all six-feet-zillion-inches of him, fucking gorgeous. I looked down, hipbones and a trail of dark hair and thick flushed heavy cock curving up, _guh_ , and when I managed to tear my eyes away from all _that_ , looking up to meet his gaze again, I found sparkling green-gold-blue, kaleidoscopic and stunning, long lashes blinking slowly, and naked undisguised joy that made my heart stop for a second. 

“You good?” he asked softly, hands cupping the rounds of my shoulders, thumbs stroking the dip under my collarbone. I nodded hastily and he leaned in for a kiss, gentle and sweet, before walking me backward until my ass bumped the edge of his desk. He lifted me up to sit on it, the polished wood smooth and cool under my bare skin. 

I was all ready to make some joke about pushing me against things and Buffy fantasies when he reached between us, fingers twisting up into slick dripping-wet heat, heel of his hand pressing against my clit, and I arched up with a broken, desperate moan, wrapping my legs around him and tilting my hips to meet the perfect pressure. He rubbed little circles with rough calloused fingertips as his other hand hooked under my knee, pulling it up, spreading my legs wide as he shifted closer. 

I whimpered when his fingers slipped away, but he was already lining up, the head of his cock pressing in hot and blunt, notching into me where my body was wet and open and so fucking ready for him. The first inch was this slow, drawn-out stretch, both of us shuddering as I craned up for one desperate biting kiss. I slipped my hands around his neck and held on tight as heat rippled through me, leaving me feverish and lightheaded. 

Then he pressed a hand to the small of my back, pulling me closer and grinding into me all at once, thrusting forward, filling me up with this sudden, blinding, eye-popping wave of friction until he was buried in me as deep as he could be, his body flush against mine as we both gasped. He rolled his hips shallowly, unable to get much leverage with me holding him close, and I whined, feeling strung-out and overwhelmed already. 

He grabbed my wrists, tugging them away from his neck, and I squirmed, struggling to sit up without holding on. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, and then he was leaning forward, shoving blindly at the scattered books and pens on the desk behind me, clearing a space for me. I let him tip me until I was flat on my back, my ankles still hooked around his waist. When he straightened up and looked down at me, running a hand from my breastbone down to my stomach, I felt almost uncomfortably exposed, spread open and sprawled out for him. 

I would’ve felt self-conscious if it was anyone else in the world looking down at me, but Sam smiled, and all my reservations melted away. 

He curled his fingers around my hips, gripping tight. This time he pulled almost all the way out of me, and I felt empty and needy for a split-second before he was slamming forward again, snapping into me, pulling me down to meet the force of his thrust as he twisted up, grinding his cock against some deep secret spot inside me that felt like fireworks exploding through my core. 

I cried out, hands scrabbling at my sides as I tried to grasp at something, anything, to hold onto, clawing uselessly at the wood. Then I reached over my head and braced my palms against the wall, arching my back as he pulled away, pushing down to meet the next powerful thrust. I could feel the impact all the way up my spine, rattling my vertebrae, jolting through my skull, skittering out along every bone and lighting me up in a wild flash of pleasure that made me sob with its intensity. 

I figured I’d been letting my imagination get away from me, when I daydreamed about this. I thought there was no _way_ that this would ever happen, and even if it did, no way it would ever be as good as my fantasies. I never even dared to imagine that it could be like _this_. 

I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see straight, couldn’t control myself. I barely felt human; there was nothing left of me but animal instinct and sensory overload. Everything narrowed down to the friction between our bodies, the fierce too-full too-much pleasure-pain, the burn where he was stretching me open, the shockwaves along my nerve endings every time he hammered into me and punched the breath from my lungs. 

Sam let out a long, rough groan over the pornographic slap of skin on skin and the high, choked-off moans I couldn’t hold back, and I felt his rhythm stutter as he started to fuck me faster, harder, nearing the edge. He dragged a hand from my hip to flatten over my stomach and then lower, until he could thumb my swollen clit, rubbing in rough circles. My muscles seized up, electricity sparking deep inside me sharp and convulsive and overpowering. 

It lanced through me all at once, this crippling all-consuming clench and quake in my belly, twisting me up and breaking me open as everything went white and distant. I was only dimly aware of babbling curses and slamming my palm back against the wall, shaking so hard I thought I’d break. 

Sam gave a hoarse shout as he buried himself in me one last time, grinding deeper, closer than I’d thought another human could get, his cock twitching inside me with each wave of his orgasm. Then we were both shuddering through it together, his fingers digging into my hips, my heartbeat pounding in my ears in time with the swell and pulse of his release and the throb where my cunt was squeezing around him, drawing it all out, sending sparks fizzling and flickering through me over and over again until I thought it would never end. 

When I forced my eyes open, blinking at him stupidly, he was slumping forward, gripping the edge of the desk as he took deep gulping breaths. He looked up as I watched, eyes half-closed, mouth slack, skin flushed and sweat-sheened, just as wrecked and fucked-out as I felt and still heartbreakingly gorgeous. 

“Hey,” he said weakly, with a dazed smile. 

I felt like I was glowing as I grinned back up at him. 

“I don’t think I can sit up,” I confessed, and he offered me a hand, pulling me upright so that I could drape my arms around his neck and kiss every bit of salty skin I could reach. 

“Why haven’t we done that before?” he asked breathlessly, brushing my hair back and cupping my cheeks to kiss me square on the mouth before I could answer. I sighed into the kiss, lost in the slide of his lips on mine, and by the time he pulled away it took me a moment to remember the question. 

“Don’t know,” I mumbled. “But can we do it again?”

He grinned dazzlingly bright and raised an eyebrow. “Wanna try it on a bed sometime?” 

“If we must,” I said solemnly. 

“Think you can walk?” 

“Pretty sure that’s a no.” 

“So now you expect me to carry you everywhere?”

“Hey, you’re the one who was bragging about being able to lift me,” I smirked. “Can’t blame a girl for enjoying the follow-through.” 

“Fuck, you’re demanding,” he said, mock-exasperated, and kissed me one more time before lifting me up and carrying me to the bed. 


End file.
